Release
by MonaLovely
Summary: Kink Meme response. Saving the galaxy and the rest of the universe can probably produce some tension. And that calls for a massage. A joint-cracking, muscle bruising, blissful full-body massage. Mordin/Femshep  sort of .


"Shit," Garrus grunted, "can't believe you took down that warlord without so much as a scratch. Ah-!" He flinched at the cool sizzle of medi-gel along his unarmored thigh, where a large gash from varren claws had torn between the chinks and caught his plating.

Shepard shook her head, but instantly regretted the movement. "Not quite." The krogan had banged her up pretty badly, now that the immediate adrenaline rush had slowed her heart to a mere 150 beats per minute, her skin flushed, her breathing still ragged as feeling began to settle back into her skin. She had claw marks from a krogan fist along her neck - thoughts of him squeezing her neck into snapping, managing to probably misalign every single vertebrae in her body. Grunt had pulped the guy's spine within seconds, but it was all she could really do not to slump to the ground and ask Garrus to walk up and down her back. Seeing the leathery skin hiss and begin to mend together, she let her head fall, sucked in her breath and the searing pain that shot up the back of her neck.

"Fuck me."

"No thanks, Commander." She could hear the grin in his voice.

"Oh shush, you…" Without bending her neck too much, she let her forehead rest on Garrus's knee, trying to grit her teeth through the pain she knew was to come when she stood up. "I'm fine."

The shuttle lurched, and she let out a sharp yelp of pain. "Ah, fuck…need a hand."

Without a word, he seized her under the arms and helped her into her seat. "Spirits, Shepard…"

"I'll be fine. Nothing's broken."

"You can barely move."

"Chakwas can probably crack a few things back into place - oh _Christ_…" The shuttle shuddered as it pushed through the final level of atmosphere, like a pin pushing through a rubberband. Shepard's whitened knuckles cracked so loud that both of Garrus's browplates raised.

"Yeah…hope so."

* * *

><p>"Shepard."<p>

Standing in the Med-Bay, watching Dr. Chakwas examine Garrus's injuries and rolling her neck, Shepard saw Mordin enter briskly, carrying what seemed to be an extra case of medi-gel. "Oh, hey Mordin." She wasn't surprised to see him - he always came in to the Med-Bay after a mission to help the doctor.

He placed the medi-gel case on the first exam table next to Garrus, reaching out to brush Shepard's hair out of her eyes and examine her face. His touches were business-like, but he smiled and tapped her chin before tilting her head and examining her neck and shoulders. After the Omega-4 mission, after staring death in the face and clawing out alive, battered and reeling, Mordin had paid her a visit, and to her utmost shock, admitted to returning (in some sense) the sentiments she'd expressed before.

"Wasn't good time," he had said. "Would have distracted from mission. Not anymore. Not worried about time limit…as much."

And so began what Shepard half-jokingly called their "structural intimacy." Mordin was not exactly a romantic being. No sex, no wild trysts, not even a kiss yet. He'd never even seen her naked, not even in the lab - Chakwas, for matters of dignity, examined the women aboard the ship. Shepard was all one for going slow, but it was almost comical for this salarian, so quick and immediate in all other tasks, to approach something that could be so brief and fleeting with the rest of his life remaining with barely any _special_ physical contact.

Then again, she couldn't blame him. He did almost completely lack a sex drive. She hadn't quite addressed how she was going to deal with that, but it was starting to weigh down on her a bit more than she thought. But even _he_ would steal a sweet little touch here and there, his hands grazing over her cheeks, lingering on her shoulder or over her hand for longer than usual. It made her smile. It was soft, secret, between them.

"Ah…" She flinched and held her breath as his fingers pressed down her spine. "Ah, no, stop stop stop…"

He paused, a slight frown creasing his tattooed brow. "Stand. Turn around." She did so, and he pulled her right arm across her chest to hold in his left hand, pressing the bar of his suit between her shoulder blades. She realized what he was doing when his other arm came around her waist, and she opened her mouth to tell him "No!" but he wasn't going to let her. Within a heartbeat, he moved, and Shepard felt, with a sickeningly satisfying '_crrrk,_' all the bones in her back snap back into alignment. A shock of pain drained to be replaced by initial relief, jarring shakiness and a soreness that sank to the sinews, but now she could at least move her neck without feeling like a cripple.

Chakwas raised her eyebrows at Garrus's outraged expression. "Don't worry, Vakarian, she just got her mobility back."

"But did you _hear_ that?"

"No broken bones, Garr-Bear," Shepard said, rolling her shoulders back. There was still pain, bruising and soreness she knew she would feel for the next week, and she was sure she had pulled at least a few muscles in her back and neck. "Thanks, Mordin."

The professor didn't speak, merely ran a hand down her back again, ignoring her tense breaths, her soft complaints. "Need to take care of this, Shepard. Will hinder you greatly."

"I'll be fine, there's not a lot you can do other than give me ibuprofen though, is there?" Shepard shook her head. "I'll be ok."

* * *

><p>But of course, she wasn't. She couldn't afford to take anything other than over-the-counter painkillers, and so, brooding and aching and racked with insomnia, she found herself staring into the mess hall fridge, looking for the milk for her tea that would at least make her sleepy enough to lull through dimming agony, the knots in her shoulders, the torqued muscles along her spine.<p>

"Can't sleep?"

"Mordin?" Shepard turned, more than surprised to see the professor and prospective partner out of his lab. "Why are you down here?"

"Came to check on you. Went up to quarters with medications - need to take them every six hours. Found no one there, so…" He sniffed… "…came looking."

"Oh. Well, no. I'm a bit…preoccupied." She smiled, but it turned into a grimace as she straightened up. A three-fingered hand caressed the back of her neck.

"Need sleep, Shepard. Have to take care of this."

"I know," she snapped. Mordin's hand paused. She sighed. "Sorry. Just…I just hurt all over and I'm so tired and…" Her voice was breaking, much to her chagrin and she drew a hand over her eyes, leaning against the counter and breathing deep.

"Can help, Shepard."

"I really can't take any more meeds, Mordin, I'm sorry."

"Doesn't include medication." He looked nodded reassuringly as she looked at him, face dubious and worn and yet all at once hopeful. "Nothing to lose, Shepard."

Shepard dipped her teabag, sighing. "Alright. What time do you need me down in the lab?"

"Prefer not to do it in lab," Mordin replied. "Private act. Would prefer to do so in your quarters."

Shepard was suddenly very aware of the warmth of his hand on the back of her neck. "Oh…um…"

"Will only take a few minutes to prepare. Enough time for you to finish tea, relax for a while. If desired, wait in lab. Will come and get you in a few minutes."

Shepard swallowed, but then again, he was more than right. She didn't have much to lose. "Okay. I'll…I'll wait in the lab."

* * *

><p>He was quick, that was for sure. The moment she had drained the last drop of her tea, he was at the lab door, beckoning her cheerily. She followed him to the elevator, her insides quivering with something like apprehension. There was a quiet excitement brewing inside her, but a nervousness as well that she couldn't stem.<p>

"Pulse rising," he commented. She blushed, looked down.

"Sorry."

"No need to be." He put a hand to the small of her back. "Nothing to worry about. Doctor-patient trust."

"Nothing else?"

He just grinned again, glanced down, back up at her. The elevator hissed, doors opened, and Shepard's eyes widened.

The lights were dimmed, and a long, padded table with blankets was standing at the foot of Shepard's bed. It was…

"Massage effective way of loosening tensions," Mordin remarked nonchalantly, leading her into the room, "both physical and mental. Increases metabolism, eases pain, rids toxins…" He inhaled. "Calms nervous system."

Shepard opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again. There was nothing to say.

"If you would…" Mordin gestured to the table. "Lie on stomach first. Will do problem areas, then rest of body. Finish with relaxation…" He gestured to the bed, beamed at her.

"Oh Mordin…" Shepard didn't know whether to laugh or hug him. It was so sweet, and, dare she say it, even _romantic. _

Mordin patted the table. "Will be easier without clothes."

Shepard's heart leapt and all the blood in her body rushed to her cheeks. "Oh…um…alright. Should I…"

Mordin waved away her question. "Nonsense! Have seen unclothed bodies of all species. Will see you regardless."

Shepard, cheeks burning, nodded, then, a little awkwardly, pulled her shirt over her head and let her sleeping shorts fall. She lay down on her stomach, realizing she probably should have taken off her bra and underwear, but she didn't want to ask.

"Sorry, but-"

"Sshh…" Mordin shushed her, brushing her hair away from the back of her neck. His hands were very gentle, and very soft now that she realized he was ungloved. She shivered - she'd never felt his bare skin before.

His fingers stroked down her back, making her sigh, and she felt the hooks at the back of her bra being undone. "Will do best with everything off," he said softly, and slipped it out from under her before she could even consider opening her mouth. He moved down and gently hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties and eased them off, folding everything and placing it on a chair by her desk.

He returned, eased her head to face the left, and she touched his hand. "Mordin?" He bent down to hear her and she swallowed, suddenly bashful for the question, nevermind the fact she was finally unclothed in front of him.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Can…can you be naked too?" As if her cheeks could have turned any redder. The professor met her eyes with some surprise. "I won't look, if you don't want me to." As if to ensure her promise, she shut her eyes, still holding his hand. "But…"

Mordin chuckled, squeezed her hand and let go. She opened her eyes a fraction, but heard the clicking of the fastenings on his suit, and instantly shut them completely again.

"Will do what makes you comfortable," Mordin said. Shepard's heart fluttered in her chest - she heard him folding the odd material of his suit, the _clackclackclack _of each boot being undone, the soft tap of the pair returning to the ground. Finally, she heard the padding of his footsteps come towards her again and felt the warmth of his tri-fingered hands on her shoulders. She kept her eyes closed. The thought, rather than the image, of him being naked beside her brought a little quiver to the root of her belly, one of enthrallment…and of arousal.

She felt the soft splash of oil on her back, heard a rustling, and then sighed as the smell of lavender reached her nose and Mordin's fingers began to work the stiffness between her shoulders. He was slow and particular, finding the knot beneath a blade and pressing down with a knuckle. Her breath shook - that _hurt_.

"Breathe, Shepard. Release."

"Hurts. Mmph!"

"Will, at first. Need to breathe into it. Let tension go. Would never intentionally hurt you."

Trying not to think about those words too critically, Shepard let out her breath, whimpering as Mordin kneaded again with a bit more pressure, but she kept breathing. He was right. After a while, she could feel the muscle begin to unknit itself, like the hiss from a tea kettle, venting pressure.

"Better?"

"Yeah…better."

Mordin moved on, to the tops of her shoulders, where he pressed down on her deltoids with the backs of his hands, stretching her neck and making her sigh. Down her back, where he paid great care, telling her to breathe in, out and cracking her back, easing muscle back into it's place, every now and then adding more lavender to the sweet almond oil and touching pressure points to coax her into an intense relaxation.

Shepard, arms down by her sides, felt the aches in her body beginning to melt beneath the professor's hands, slowly at first. In fact, she felt more pain initially as he moved to different areas, managing to locate the exact places where there was the most tension, pain almost unbearable to the point she began to question if this was a good idea. But as he continued, the thoughts faded as she slipped deeper and deeper into bliss.

Her hand brushed his bare side as he moved down her back to rub her triceps, to knead the top of her hips, her bottom, the backs of her legs. His skin was hot, hotter than hers, and she had to admit, knowing they were both nude with the way he was touching her, the heavy scent of lavender hanging in the air…it was all sending a pooling warmth between her legs. Mordin cracked that particularly tight section of bone where her spine met her pelvis, and she couldn't hold in the soft moan that slipped past her lips.

He was careful around her knees, the thick muscle of her thighs, her calves that had been struck by more than one Charlie's Horse in the midst of battle. He didn't neglect her ankles, nor her feet - he stopped on certain points: her instep, her big toe, the very base of her heel, and she almost felt pressure released in other parts of her body, her back, her temples, the long muscle from hip down her outer leg.

"Need you to turn over," he whispered. "Here…" He had her scoot down a bit so she could flip over gracefully while he helped her into place. Now completely exposed before him, she was very aware of the wetness between her legs as he began along the tops of her shoulders again, moving up to the back of her neck and into her hair. A tingly sensation tickled her forehead as his fingers drew firm circles on her scalp, knuckling the base of her skull where it met her spine.

He was far too good at this.

He moved downward, and Shepard sucked in her breath as he began to massage her breasts, her nipples pebbling under his palms. The gesture was intimate, sensual, and the heat was still building, along with something else. He touched sore pressure points between her ribs, down to her belly. She could feel him leaning over her, feel his breath on her throat, and oh God, he'd moved down to her hips, and there was pain, there was such tightness, but no, don't stop, she'd die if he stopped, and yet the pain was unbearable…she'd never known she'd carried so much tightness there. Her breath was coming in short, hot gasps, Mordin was murmuring something indistinct, and things were flashing through her mind - waking up in Cerberus, seeing Garrus so changed, seeing him hurt, watching Mordin torn apart because of Maelon, Thane in tears over Kolyat, Samara's grief, Jack's turmoil, the Council's disbelief, the shudder of the ship crashing through Omega-4, the love in Kenson's voice when she spoke of the oncoming Reaper invasion, an invasion she could not stop…

Mordin pressed down on those perfect points on her hips and Shepard shuddered, an unmistakable orgasm swelling inside her, racking her entire body, her mind blank, a warm, golden glow ricocheting to every finger and toe, every eyelash, every fiber of her being, blinded in euphoria - and suddenly she was sobbing silently, hot, salty tears streaming from her eyes down her temples and into her hair. Everything that had happened, everything just flooded to a peak, all when he touched her, all of it draining through her breath, her sobs, into Mordin's hands resting on her belly, his lips coming down to rest in a half-kiss over hers, grazing her chin, down her jaw to whisper into her neck.

"Let it go."

Shepard hated crying, but Mordin's face was so warm and soft and comforting buried in her hair, and his hands so tender, and he'd made her feel so _good_, she was beyond the point of what he thought of her tears. She wept. For the two of them, for not having enough time, for fear of her trial, for all the batarians killed she would answer for, for her crew whom she'd put through hell, for all of them coming out alive, and for that dear, dear salarian who had just kissed her for the first time.

Once her choked gasps had quieted, she sank, boneless, into the table, pressing her lips to Mordin's face, whatever part she could reach. She felt so free, so numb, like she could float up and away like dust from the death of a star.

Mordin kissed her earlobe. "Emotional release," he murmured. "Carried in hip flexers. Reaction not unexpected. Do not worry."

Shepard nodded, hiccuping softly. For the first time, she opened her eyes and let them graze over his bare form. He was a long, tall drink of water, that was for sure, all smooth lines and peachy scarred skin and sweet oval eyes. She wanted to ask, wanted to ask about that…_other _reaction. He knew her. He could see it in her face.

"Massage a sensual act," Mordin said, scooping her up and laying her spread-eagled on the bed. "Doesn't have to be sexual to reach same peak. All carried here." He rubbed her hips again. "Aromatherapy particularly effective for both kinds of release." He began taking each of her limbs and stretching it out gently, an arm over her chest, behind her head, before laying it out on the bed. He did the same to her other arm, pulled each knee into her chest, lay it out, so careful, so particular - it was almost unlike him to go so slow.

"Mordin…why? Why all this?"

Mordin took a moment before answering, circling her hip in the socket a few times as he thought. "Know this job is stressful. Most extreme definition of the word. Know you to be a…a bit battered. Residual injuries not unlikely." He looked right at her, and Shepard felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him until he felt like she did right now. "Know you need release, in every sense. More than anyone on this squad, perhaps. Dangerous to wear mask of impassivity for too long. Know that for a fact. Know it well."

Shepard sighed as he lay next to her, feeling heavy and warm. "Thank you, Mordin," she murmured, pulling him forward to kiss him properly. His lips were not really made for kissing, but he managed, smiling as she pulled away.

"Want to see you happy, Shepard. Need to see it. Learning to love you."

"You're sweet." She pressed her forehead to the tattoos on his. "I'm learning, too." Before she fell asleep, Mordin was sure he heard, "Promise you'll let me return the favor…"

* * *

><p><strong>Silly little fic I had in my head all day while working on Imprinting. I'm really beginning to like these two together. Odd couple. Pseudo-couple.<strong>

**Reviews make me smile. **


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